Chapter 1

1

T he youngest of quadruplet brothers, Fisher Greystoke, was having pizza with his brothers before he took a run as a wolf through the Rocky Mountain National Park near the pack's territory in the town of Greystoke. "Are you sure none of you want to go with me?"

He didn't mind running as a wolf alone, but it was more fun going with one of his brothers or cousins or one of the other wolf pack members.

"I've got a couple of patients to keep an eye on." Heath was drinking soda with his pizza instead of a beer because of it.

A fourteen-year-old wolf teen had been driving his car without his parents' permission or a driver's license——had veered off the road and hit a tree. He had broken both legs and his right arm and was in traction at the moment, but he was wearing arm and leg casts and would stay that way for a while. Heath was on call if anything happened that required his immediate attention. The teen's friend had been luckier, wearing a seatbelt and the car's impact with the tree had given him whiplash, but at least he was at home with his family. At times, wolf teens were no different than human teens at getting themselves into trouble. Though Devlyn, their pack leader, had given them hell for it. Bella, his mate, was more the good guy this time and much more comforting, though she could be just as growly a wolf when it came to it. Of course the teens' parents were pretty steamed about it too and let both boys know it.

Fisher glanced at Shawn. He shrugged. "I've got a date. No one you know. We might go running later, but it'll be just the two of us."

Tanner smiled. "Serena and I are spending some quality time at home. The only reason I'm even here is that she pushed me out the door, telling me to go have a slice of pizza on her. Right now, it gives her heartburn, but she knows how much we like having our weekly pizza dinner."

"Yeah, it won't be long, and you'll have little wolf pups yapping at your wolf heels," Fisher said.

Serena and Bella were twin sisters, and both were expecting twins in six months.

"Devlyn and Bella are busy tonight too," Fisher said. Devlyn was their cousin. "And so is Aaron with his mate Angie. They're taking a nighttime ride on their horses." Aaron was another of their cousins and he owned a horse ranch. "And you know Brock. He's up to his eyeballs on a PI case." Yet another cousin. But his brother, Vaughn, was with the United Shifter Force and currently on a mission with his mate. Brock was also mated. So it meant Fisher, Shawn, and Heath needed to get on the stick and find mates. Fisher was curious about who Shawn was dating on the sly.

"I hope you're no longer on that dating site," Shawn told Fisher.

"Nope. We need a wolf shifters' dating site."

"There's not enough need for it," Heath said.

Fisher rolled his eyes. "Like we're swimming in single she-wolves around here."

"Right, but if you found a wolf you liked, and corresponded with her, but she's in Florida or Oregon, then what would you do?" Heath asked.

"Go see her," Fisher said, though he agreed for the most part with his brothers. They really needed to spend some time with the she-wolf to know if she was the right one for them.

"Let us know when you return home." Of the four brothers, Shawn had become the worrier of the bunch.

"Yeah, sure. I should be gone for about an hour. Two at the most." Fisher hadn't run as a wolf in so long that he really felt the urge to be one.

They all finished their pizzas and then everyone said good night and went off to do their own things. Heath was checking on his patient at the shifter clinic. Shawn was off to pick up his date to take her to dinner and a movie. Tanner went home to his mate and Fisher drove off to the Rocky Mountain National Park.

When he arrived at the trailhead, he noticed a brand-new red Yukon like his and he smiled. The owner had good taste. He parked next to it, then grabbed his bag. He had water in it and a first aid kit, but also, he would throw his clothes in it once he reached a place perfect for him to shift into his wolf. Then he locked his car, yanked his backpack on, but as he walked past the other car, he smelled the scent of a red she-wolf, and he raised his brows. He smelled three gray male wolves in the area which meant they could be with her, though it smelled like their scents weren't as recent as hers.

Maybe she wasn't with them, and he could catch up to her. He hurried off down the trail. Were they running as wolves? He didn't recognize their scents, so he knew they weren't members of the Greystoke wolf pack.

The forest appeared as magical as always, the sun setting, glowing yellow and orange through the trees, birds chirping before the sun finally set. He loved the fall and this time of night because he didn't normally encounter hunters, though it was illegal for them to kill wolves in any event. He quickened his pace—eager to find a spot to strip and shift and see if he could catch up to the red wolf, just in case she was truly on her own.

Kira Westwood worked for the United Shifter Force as a special agent, tracking down shifters who were rogues. She'd been in law enforcement for years, but when she had gotten a call from Martin Sutherland, the director of the newly formed United Shifter Force, she knew that was her calling and she'd given notice at her work as a homicide detective in Loveland, Colorado where her family lived and joined the USF team.

With the case she was working on now, gray wolves had kidnapped human kids and ransomed them for money and left them at locations that were safe. The only reason she had gotten the mission and known the kidnappers were gray wolves was because she had been near the crime scene when they had stolen the most recent child and she had smelled the wolves' scents. The USF took the case on right away because they couldn't allow one of their kind to get locked up. What if they shifted in prison? They would out their whole kind.

Thankfully, the three men didn't have a clue that a USF agent was tracking them through the national forest. She had learned the three men had the same MO as in other kidnappings in Colorado and she was sure they had done all of them. Learning the men had been stopped for a traffic violation near the national park and then seeing their black Chevrolet Suburban parked at the trailhead, she hoped to get lucky and locate them.

She had to find them and turn them over to the USF. Unfortunately, her partner in this case had been in a car accident and broken both legs right before she had left to track these three men down. Everyone else in the USF was working on an important case so there was no one left to spare.

She quickly called her boss to inform him about what she had discovered. "I'm at the Rocky Mountain National Park and I've located the kidnappers' SUV."

"You're in the Greystoke wolf pack territory then. Call Devlyn or Bella Greystoke who are the pack leaders. They will send you help if you need it." Martin gave her their phone numbers. "Keep me informed when you can but keep yourself safe."

Devlyn's cousin, Vaughn Greystoke, and his mate Jillian were fellow USF special agents out on a case in Oregon. But Devlyn and the rest of the pack were well aware of the USF and the good that they did.

"Okay. Thanks. Out here."

She wasn't wearing her wolf coat as she tracked the wolves' scents. She knew the three men had guns and she couldn't very well approach them as a wolf. What worried her the most was that she'd smelled Billy Forsythe's scent, the human child, who had been kidnapped. She was glad she was getting close to them, but was concerned she wouldn't be able to rescue the boy on her own.

Then she heard talking and laughing deeper in the woods—a man and a woman, who eventually reached her on the trail and greeted her as they walked on past.

She planned to just track down the kidnappers first, and if she found the three men and the boy, she would ask Devlyn to send reinforcements. There wasn't any sense sending anyone here until she could actually give them coordinates of the kidnappers' location. What if they had already left the national park and she ended up sending the Greystoke wolf pack on a wild goose chase? The boy who cried wolf came to mind.

As a wolf, Fisher had been loping through the forest for about three miles when he heard a child crying about an eighth of a mile away from where he was located. The boy was closer to a trail than he was. "I wanna see my mommy. I want my daddy," the boy said.

A man said in a gruff voice, "Shut up."

Wondering what was going on, Fisher headed their way, partially because of his instinctive wolf's curiosity and partially because of a need to make sure the child was supposed to be with whoever the man was.

"Here, kid, have another cookie," another man said, his voice just as gruff, but it was deeper than the other man's.

"Are you sure you want to do it this way this time?" another man asked, his voice younger.

"Yeah. We need to change up our MO or we're going to get caught," the first man said. "We've got the pickup location; the kid stays here."

"But what if someone else picks up the kid? Someone bad?" the younger man asked. There was a significant pause. "Well, badder than us."

Fisher didn't like what he was hearing. As a former Army Ranger, he had some skills he could use in taking down bad guys, but the problem was if they were armed, he wasn't. With his teeth, sure, but if they were armed with guns and at least three of them were involved? The odds were definitely stacked against him. And as a wolf shifter, he didn't want to bite any humans, unless he had no choice.

But if these guys left the kid in the woods and took off to their "pickup location," Fisher could rescue the kid. Well, kind of. He was still in his wolf coat. He could pretend to be a dog and befriend the boy. That's what he would try to do. Any self-respecting wolf normally didn't want to ever be thought of as a dog, but in a case like this, he would do whatever it took to save the kid. If the kid needed saving.

"What if a cougar gets him?" the younger man asked.

"A cougar's not going to get him. Come on. It's time. We leave him here and go. We'll have plenty of time to make the pickup," the first man said.

"I don't know," the younger man said.

Fisher moved in closer so he could see the three men and the boy. The wind was blowing away from all of them so he couldn't capture their scents.

"Okay, well, we'll leave you here with the kid and you protect him. Then you join us in Florida," the brown-haired guy said.

"I won't have a ride out of here," the younger man said.

"Exactly. So make a choice. Come with us or stay here and figure out another way to meet up with us. But you better not get caught." The guy looked similar to the younger man, same narrow jawline, same small eyes, but he was probably middle aged and darker haired.

"Listen, kid," the younger man said, his blond, shoulder-length hair caught up in the breeze. "You stay here and hug a tree. Your parents will come for you. If a cougar comes, you scream and yell at him and throw sticks and rocks at him. Don't go wandering off into the woods. If you do, no one will find you. You gotta stay right here and we'll give your parents this exact location. Got it? If you move, you will be lost in the woods forever."

"Give him that extra water bottle," the brown-haired guy said. "Wipe it down."

Fisher wished they would call each other by their names, but he could understand why they wouldn't if they had kidnapped the boy. It was safer for him not to know them.

"Don't drink all of this at one time. Just little sips every once in a while, because once it's gone, you won't get any more," the blond man warned.

"Stay here," the brown-haired man said to the kid, "just like he said."

Fisher was getting close to their location, moving quietly, sneakily, trying to keep his eyes on the men and the boy without any of them seeing him. If the men saw him as a wolf, they might believe he would kill the boy if they left him alone in the woods. Fisher needed them to leave him so he could take the boy to safety.

Of course, the boy might listen to the men and decide he wasn't leaving that spot no matter what, even if Fisher pretended to be a dog and tried to take him to safety. He observed the three men closer. The younger man looked like he was about twenty, his disheveled blond hair shaggy, his black jacket having a red and white striped collar, his white tennis shoes dirty, his shoe size about a ten. One of the stouter men was about thirty with dark brown hair, his build much more muscular. The black-haired man was about his age, his hair cut short, reminding Fisher of a bulldog of a drill sergeant he'd had while in training in the army.

The brown-haired boy of about seven or so was wearing black jeans, sneakers, and a baseball team shirt. He was quiet as the three men started hiking through the woods to the trail, the younger man glancing back at the boy, as if worried about him. The other two men continued on their way without a backward glance as if they didn't give a damn about the boy. Fisher had to wait until the three men were well out of sight before he approached the boy, a water bottle in his hand, tears streaking down his dirty cheeks.

Just then, the younger man caught sight of Fisher, of all the rotten luck, and ran back to the boy, pulling his gun out and shooting at Fisher. Fisher dashed off, furious the younger man had been watching out for the boy and saw him sneaking through the woods as a wolf, looking like a predator ready to take down his prey. When in truth, he'd just been trying to sneak in without getting caught at it.

Fisher dodged bullets, cursing himself for the mistake. He thought the blond guy would just stop where the boy was and wouldn't pursue Fisher any further, not when they had a "pickup" to make. But the blond guy must have thought if he killed the wolf, the boy would be safer if they left him alone liked they had planned.

Even though Fisher was running as a wolf, the blond guy wasn't that far behind him and kept trying to shoot him, until Fisher came to a cliff. For a second, he thought of going right or left, but he was out of time. He glanced over the edge and saw a ledge several feet below. The blond guy aimed, fired, and hit Fisher in the shoulder. Fisher felt like a fist had slammed into his shoulder, the jolt knocking him backward.

Fisher took a calculated risk and fell off the cliff, hoping he didn't hit the ledge and bounce off. He knew he had a chance at surviving, versus staying at the cliff's edge where the blond guy could shoot him until he was dead. Fisher's greatest regret was that he hadn't saved the boy from the men as he hit the ledge with a painful thud and his vision faded to black.